Jake's Girl
by Sand5Marlowe
Summary: Jake's daughter has fallen ill. Is he strong enough to handle what comes next?
1. Chapter 2

Jake eyed his daughter through the mirror in his barbershop. He had been in the middle of shaving Loren's 5 o'clock shadow, when he noticed the sound of her pencil tapping and scratching across paper had stopped. He smiled to himself as he thought of how Hank and company had teased him about how his children would turn out. How wrong they were.

Lucy sat with her tiny feet dangling from her father's desk chair. Her little hand held the thick wooden pencil against her temple as she absent mindedly starred out the shop's window. She had gotten her mother's dark black hair. It reminded him of the night sky when the clouds were blue and spread like highlights. It fell in plump ringlets over her small shoulders, which caused unending frustration when Teresa sat plucking each glossy curl into place with a pick comb. But her eyes were the same steel grey as his, though they peer out of round orbits that were fringed with long, thick, black lashes. And her skin was a pale café au lait shade that reminded him of his coffee when Teresa poured too much crème into it.

"What's the matter, honey," he asked trying not to look up as he brought the blade tightly up, passed Loren's jugular.

Her little body exhale dramatically, "Nothin."

Loren brushed comically at Jake's hand, "Your cuttin' too close! I'm feelin' a burn."

But Jake's gaze was on his daughter.

"Oh, kids should be out playin'. Not all cooped up in here. Jake your too darn over protective. "

"She's only 6," was his reply as his wiped shaving lotion off Loren's face. "Pay me later."

Loren's body snapped forward as Jake kicked the inclined chair back up into place. "Take it out of ya grocery tab, when Teresa comes to the store," he said rubbing the back of his neck. He petted Lucy on the head as he passed, "such a pretty lil' thing all locked up, it's a shame!"

"Goodbye Mr. Bray," Lucy muttered turning to face her father.

He was already sweeping around the barbers chair, with a tense look on his face.

"Pa?"

"Hmmm?" he made wide sweeps now, eager to finish and close up.

"It hurts," she said chewing absently on her lower lip.

"What hurts?" he asked shrugging on his coat and searching about for his Stetson.

"My head," she said looking up at him with those intense steely eyes.

Jake kneeled down in front of her searching for any kind of a wound.

"Did ya hit yah self?"

"No," she said rubbing her temples hard enough to stretch her eyebrows up.

"Stop that. You'll make it worse," Jake lifted her up into his arms as he made his way out the shop doors. With her small arms wrapped around his neck she buried her face into the collar of his duster in an effort to keep the bright sunlight from her eyes.

However, the muffled noises of the town reached her ears making the throbbing almost unbearable. She tired to concentrate on the smell of her father's musky cologne, and the warm comforting feeling of his pulse against her cheek. His hand was pressed to her back in such a way that she knew he was in a panic.

Then a coolness came over her body as Jake's boots finally came in contact with the wooden porch of Dr. Mike's clinic.

"Is it serious?" Jake asked as his eyes moved from Lucy to Dr. Mike.

The silence was palpable, as she continued to move her fingers over Lucy's forehead.

"Hmmm," she quickly moved to her desk and lit a candle. "Has she always been sensitive to the light?"

"Not til' this afternoon," Jake raked his fingers through his corn silk colored hair.

Michaela moved the candle before Lucy's eyes. "Sweetheart, tell me when it hurts, and where."

"Ain't her eyes! It's her head that hurts!" Jake was beside himself.

The sudden outburst caught Lucy's attention and she turned toward her father with alarm. Her entire body seemed to shrink nearer to him for protection.

"Jake I can't well examine her if you're going to be in hysterics," Michaela scolded him and turned back to Lucy. "Look into the light like I told you."

Placing his hand on his daughters back he smiled down at her, "I'm sorry honey. Go on."

Lucy turned and attempted to peer directly into the candles light, but the pain forced her eyelids to fall heavy. She shook her head only to receive a fine jolt to the center of her forehead, which forced her head down into her hands. Tiny little sobs began to rock her small frame as she curled into herself. Jake immediately fell to cradling her in his arms.

Michaela's shoulders slumped, as she blew the candle out and began searching through the many bottles that sat on her wall shelf. Her slender white fingers gently tapped at the labels on the tonic bottles as they passed.

"It's migraines, Jake. Take her home and put her in a dark room. There mustn't be any light. And apply cool compresses to her forehead to help relieve some of the pressure," she said all this with her back to him. Finally, wrapping her fingers around what she was looking for, she turn and placed a bottle of Laudanum in his hand.

Jake pocketed the Laudanum awkwardly, as he stared at Michaela in wonder. "Must be bad if your giving me this."

"It's only as a last resort, should the pain become excruciating. Migraines can last for hours. Also, if you must, give it to her watered down. Even after it passes, do not expose her to any brightness."

The girl already had her face buried in the crest of Jake's arm. Michaela reached out and ran her fingers through the girls ebony locks. She smiled wearily before turning to her desk to write down some notes.

"Let me know if there is any major change," she said continuing to scribble down this latest bit of medical history into Lucy's file.

"Thanks Dr. Mike," he said removing his duster and wrapping it around Lucy's head and body.

Michaela watched Jake leave with his daughter bundled in his arms. She hardly remembered the man he once was. There was something very satisfied in his temper these days. As though the war within him had settled in peace. He was happy, and anyone could see it, when he had his family in tow.


	2. Chapter 3

A light breeze whipped about the tangle of white oak trees that encircled the homestead. The boughs were so thick with leaves, this summer that only thin rays of sunlight pierced through them. It wasn't exactly the grand house that Jake had so skillfully drawn; however, a decision had been made the moment Teresa announced she was pregnant. Living in the helter-skelter of the town wasn't part of the peaceful home life either had envisioned.

However, it was a beautiful two-story home, painted white with golden trim. It would have stood out awkwardly, if not for the creeping ivy that laced itself about the south side of the structure. All along, the front of the porch sprung up blue, white, and pink starflowers, which seemed to be suspended within their ubiquitous emerald nettles. Growing adjacent to each side of the house were thickets of white jasmine and gardenia; which, on warm nights the scents mingled and drifted into the open windows.

Teresa stood in the middle of her vegetable garden admiring the home she shared with Jake. He had worked so hard to make it, not just a roof over their heads, but a home. She smiled as she recalled Lucy taking her first steps on that porch into Jake's waiting arms. How he had laughed gathering her up into his arms, and kissed her little nose. It was memories such as these that made her long for future moments. Such as, teaching her to ride her first pony, and her first hayride, which she knew Jake would need to be convinced of. As well, as bittersweet joys, like watching Jake give her away on her wedding day.

Placing her hand over her heart, she sighed and turned back to her work. It would be hours before Jake and Lucy returned from town; however, she still didn't have enough vegetables gathered for the soup. Grabbing hold of a bouquet of celery stalk, she began to yank at the stubborn green. Her feet were planted in such a way that she felt the padding vibrations of the horse galloping up the road. Surrendering to curiosity, she released the stalk and turned to a perplexing sight. Jake hurtling up on his mahogany charger, with Lucy bundled in his lap. Holding tightly to Lucy, he swung himself effortlessly from his mount and rushed up the steps into the house.

Teresa's heart skipped a beat as she rushed in after them. She reached the front parlor just in time to see Jake disappear up the stairs with his precious cargo.

"Jake!" Teresa screamed darting up the stairs and into Lucy's blackened bedroom.

She could feel her heart pounding its way up her chest and into her throat. Exasperated she placed her hands on either side of her daughter on the bed. Terror bound her words within her mouth as she lightly panted. She strained to see Lucy's face in the darkness of the little bedroom. Then she felt him move behind her. His strong hands gently cuffed her shoulders pulling her up and away from the whimpering child.

"Wah- What's happened? Jake!" she could barely speak, her body shuddered so.

His voice was oddly calm as he relayed the events leading up his mad dash. Cocking his head towards the hallway, he guided her toward the dim light.

"Don't let any light in," he cautioned. "Dr. Mike says it's the light that's caus'in her pain. I'll be right back."

He cupped her face in his hand before retreating down the stairs. She read beyond his cool steely gaze that he was just as terrified as she was. With her fingers steepled before her mouth, she turned back into the room. Following the sound of her crying child, she sat as softly as she could on the bed. Her hands felt about until they rested on Lucy's tear moistened face.

"Shhh Shhh, my baby," Teresa cooed.

However, Lucy could not be soothed. Her whimpers turned to sobs of agony, and her tears dowsed her pillow. Teresa attempted to lie next to her daughter on the bed, in order to hold her better. Only upon raising her foot, she caught something crumpled on the floor. The crystalline thump of a glass liquid filled bottle smacked onto the hard wood floor.

Grabbing at the duster that was entangled about her boot, she pulled the bottle of Laudanum from Jakes pocket.


	3. Chapter 4

Jake's tall tapered silhouette filled the doorway, just as Teresa turned the bottle about in her hands. He saw the accusing and disappointed look that occupied her face. Cursing inwardly, he realized that he had forgotten to mention the Laudanum Dr. Mike had given him.

"It's not what you're think'in," he said placing the bowl on the nightstand.

He quickly set about ringing the linens out and placing them lightly on Lucy's forehead. The girl's sobbing began to subside as her breathing softened. He rested his palm on her tiny chest so as to feel the miniature thumps of her beating heart.

"Papa," she softly exhaled hugging his hand to her chest tightly.

Without retrieving his hand, he turned to Teresa who was perched on the opposite side of the bed unlacing Lucy's boots. She seemed determined not to look at him. Yet, even through the darkness, he could see that she was angry.

"Dr. Mike gave it to me to water down for Lucy's pain," he offered up to her.

He heard a sigh emanate from her direction. Walking around to his side, she knelt down in front of him, her hand resting on his thigh. From this vantage point, she could make out his face more clearly. The corners of his mouth were turned down, heavy with discontent.

"This is not why I am angry Jake," she whispered.

Her eye's settle on Lucy, who was beginning to drift off into sleep. Lucy's hands had fallen away, releasing Jake from her grasp. His hand now free he placed her arms at her sides. Then turning to Teresa, with his elbows on his knees, he raked his fingers through his hair.

"Then why," he demanded with a growl.

"I am angry with myself," she lowered her head. "Now is not the time."

They rose quietly exiting Lucy room, and continued down the stairs into the front parlor. Jake watched his wife lower herself into the crimson wing-backed chair beside the front windows. In the clamor, some of her sable hair had escaped its pins and fell in wavy layers about her face. She starred out the window blankly before reaching up and pulling the remainder of the pins out of her disheveled hair. It cascaded down her back resting close to her hips.

Finally, leaning back her eyes settled on Jake. She was watching him. Observing his movements as he crossed the room and perched on the window seal. Uncomfortably, he swiped from his jaw to his lower lip with his thumb.

"You have not been drinking."

It wasn't a question; but he answered her anyway.

"No."

"When I saw the bottle. And then Lucy," she paused straining. "I don't know what I was thinking."

His eyes narrowed on her. If this had been any other day, he could understand if she thought he had fallen off the wagon. She had seen him on his worst day, drunkenly singing and shooting off his pistol. However, the notion that she could believe he would hurt his child cut him to the quick. Not a drop had passed his lips since the night Lucy was placed in his arms for the first time. Jake starred down at her as she clutched her fist to her breast. Feeling his temper flaring, he could have grabbed her and shaken her for this.

Then her eyes met his. Two of the darkest amber gems sparkled with tears. Within moments, he was upon her, holding her body up against his. His arms wrapped around her, as his fingers intertwined in the satiny soft locks of hair. Seeking comfort in her, he breathed in her scent. Roses. She always smelled like roses.

"I have such this feeling of dread," she murmured.

After kissing the top of her head, he replied, "Me too."

An eye of silence filled the house. There was a creeping chill that seemed to be dancing about them. Its inevitable essence was seeping in waiting to reap. A morbid premonition of loss was engulfing them. Something more than migraines was clutching for their child.


	4. Chapter 5

Blue gave way to the orange and pink swirls of evening. The leaves flittered and flung themselves against the house in the breeze. As light diminished, the purple twilight made way for the shadows of night to reign. High in the velvety blackness, the moon smiled like a Cheshire cat on its side. Glittering like jewels tiny sparks began to wink and blink there way into the dusky atmosphere.

The shadows stretched casting themselves across the small vegetable garden. Picking up speed the wind swooped down through the trenches knocking Teresa's garden basket on its side. The miniscule contents rolled and tumbled back down into the soil that had bore them.

Falling from the second story window the melody of a crude alto sang bitterly. The low notes swam fluid and deep, building into a crescendo of cracked mournful broken harmonies.

"She's the sweetest little rosebud, this cowboy ever ne-. Eyes bright as dimon's. They sparkle like the dew," Jake tenderly sang over his daughter.

Tending to her in pitch darkness was ludicrous to say the least. Blindfolding her with his charcoal grey silk handkerchief enabled him to dimly light an oil lamp in the far corner of the room.

"Well you can talk about your Clementine an' sing of Rosal-. But the yellow rose of Te . . . . . Is the only girl for me."

Her hands were balled up fists that clamped to the sides of her head. The small curls about her forehead were damp and clung to her pallid skin. Even her whimpers were beginning to increase, though she wouldn't cry. Digging her heels into the mattress, her body would tense and release in waves.

Jake continued to sing as he rung out the linens and changed out the compresses on her head.

"She cried so when I left her. It like to broke my hear-."

"Jake?" Teresa was behind him. She was holding a porcelain pitcher of fresh water in her hands. That song. It made her blood turn to ice in her veins. Nothing good ever came of him singing that damned song. Her hand was clasped so tightly around the handle of the pitcher that her knuckles were turning white.

He had fallen silent at the sound of his name on her lips. Shifting his head back, he squeezed his eyes shut sleepily and exhaled. He told himself it was just a childhood illness. By morning, Teresa would place a bonnet on Lucy's head and she'd be back at the barbershop swinging her feet at his desk.

Opening his eyes, he watched Teresa change out the water and sit on the opposite side of Lucy. She lightly took hold of the child's wrists and tried to pull them down. Yet Lucy held strong to the pressure.

"Lucinda?" her voice was so steady and melodic. "Let momma have your arms."

Jake straighten as he leaned forward observing how Lucy obeyed her mother. Teresa placed her arms down gently against the sides of her body. She motioned to Jake to help her position Lucy so that her head lay in Teresa's lap.

"Now we will see," Teresa said applying pressure to Lucy's temples with her fingertips.

She worked in circles massaging around the girl's cranium. Starting from the forehead and sliding down around to the base of Lucy's skull. The tension did seem to wane as her body went limp. Jake cocked his head to one side and for the first time that night, he smiled.

"Well, now," his tone rose slightly. "Will ya look at that?"

Teresa beamed as she watched her husband's face soften. The tension in his shoulders subsided as he reached out and once again placed his hand on Lucy's chest. Suddenly, like the snap of a rubber band, he lurched forward. His shoulders squared and his mouth dropped. Teresa froze momentarily mystified, at how fast Jake had deteriorated. Quickly swiping under Lucy's nose, he held his finger up so Teresa could see the crimson smear of blood.

Ripping the silk handkerchief from her eyes Jake lifted her limp body into his arms. The child did not stir. He hunched over placing his cheek beneath her nose.

"She's still breathing!" he shouted. "She's still breathing!"


	5. Chapter 6

There was a strange sort of static in the air. The atmosphere around her seemed to pulse with an electrifying tension. Even the cool breeze that trickled into the bedroom window felt tainted with a maudlin impression. Irritated she kicked the sheets of the bed down and stretched her arms out into the void next to her. This wasn't the first and it wouldn't be the last time she had to sleep in their bed without Sully. So why did she have this hectic apprehension gnawing at her?

Rising from bed she testily tossed her sandy locks behind her shoulders. She grabbed her cream-colored shawl as she padded out the door and down the steps into the front room. Then settling herself down in the rocking chair by the windows, she closed her eyes. While the events of the day began to drift around in her head, she became restless. She wished Sully would come back from Cloud Dancing's soon. Entwining her fingers nervously in her lap, she rocked back and forth in the chair. It creaked along the floorboards adding further anxiety.

Michaela's rationality began to lecture her for being so worrisome. The best way to calm ones nerves, was to think of repetitive tasks. Tomorrows chores would surely lull her to sleep. She'd have to check on Hank's stitches. 72 stitches, that is, all the way up the bicep of his arm. Shaking her head, she thought Hank had been lucky that drunk's knife hadn't hit an artery. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she couldn't help smirking at the way Hank had laughed the whole thing off.

"Just another portrait for the gallery," he'd said in his sly rakish manner.

She would have to find time to ride out to Jake's and look in on Lucy as well. The poor dear. Michaela hoped it hadn't come down to Jake giving her the Laudanum. While migraines were rather common, she did think it odd that they should present within a child so young. Perhaps she was too cavalier in her diagnosis. There was a significant intensity to her light sensitivity, and Jake had mentioned that it came on so suddenly. Migraines usually build up.

Within moments, Michaela was up reaching for her leather bound medical books which were piled haphazardly on the dinning room table. She launched anxiously into flipping though pages and scribbling down notations. Fixating finally on one page, her brow furrowed, she felt an icy chill permeating along her spine. She should have examined Lucy further. How could she not have realized what was lurking there all along? This wasn't there during her last check up. Locating an illustration on the next page, she stepped back raising her hand to her astonished mouth.

"My god."

This needed to be rectified immediately, she thought, about to turn back up to the bedroom in order to change. Just then, the door flung open revealing Sully. Moving along so stealthily she hadn't heard him running up the walk onto the porch. With his face flushed and his hair windblown, he appeared to be out of breath. There was a haunted gaze in his eyes that froze Michaela were she stood.

"Michaela get dressed now! We have to hurry," he urged as he herded her up the stairs.

"What is it?" She was rushing, slipping on her clothes, and tucking her blue striped blouse into her slate gray skirt.

"Ran into Jake out on the main road. Lucy's bleedin' pretty bad. He says they can't wake her. They'll be at the clinic soon. You gotta hurry!"

She was just reaching for her medical bag when she realized Katie was sleeping in the next room.

"Sully you'll have to stay here with Katie," she said running out the door.

"Michaela!" the panic in his voice caused her to involuntarily spin around to meet his worried eyes.

"Jake's terrified. . . I've never seen that look on his face before."

"I know," was all she could say as she sped out the door.


	6. Chapter 7

"Yah! Come on! YAH YAH!" Jake cracked the reins with a fury that had the horses flying across the road as if the hounds of hell were upon them. Though it was summer, the wind was icy cold and it smacked him in the face with a numbing force. Momentarily, he turned to check Teresa as she sat in the back of the wagon cradling Lucy in her arms. The black lace shawl she had hastily wrapped about her loose tresses had fallen free and flung off into the shadows of the adjacent woods. Her hair flew about her head like the splayed wings of ravens.

"Teresa?" Jake called to her wanting to hear her voice.

"Jake! Watch the road!" her voice weakly surfaced among the clatter of the wagon, the clap of the horses hooves, and the angry wind that was stabbing through them.

He turned back just as they broke into the open meadow before the church. The bridge that led into town was just within his view, compelling him to slow the horses, for fear the wagon might crash into the railings. Crossing the bridge and entering the town Jake prayed Dr. Mike had somehow arrived before him. Passing the saloon a light from behind the swinging doors revealed the insomniac Hank rubbing his eye and squinting toward the scene. Jake brought the wagon to a dead stop in front of the clinic. He was out of his seat and pulling Lucy from Teresa's shaking arms in seconds.

"Ain't nobody there Jake," Hanks voice reached him as he starred at the closed door.

He turned just in time to watch Hank helping Teresa out of the back of the wagon. Looking from Teresa and down to Lucy's limp body in his arms, he noticed something strange about the slope of her little nose. Hank was suddenly at his side placing the backs of his two fingers up against Lucy's jugular. Only Jake couldn't stop starring at the slight curve that had never been there before. Had it been there this morning when he was lacing up her boots? He always playfully flicked her nose with his finger. Narrowing his eyes, he was straining to remember.

"Jake," Hank stepped back looking alarmed. "I don't feel a pulse."

Jake held Lucy to his body and swung away from Hank as though she would be taken from him. His face pinched into an angry snarl as he took Hank in.

"You're not a DOCTOR! "

Teresa upon hearing this had taken to trying to pry Lucy from Jake's grasp. Tears were streaming down her face and her entire being was in a panic.

"My baby's not dead! Jake! Jake! My baby! JAKE!" she was screaming so hysterically dim lights about the town began to come on.

Amid the rapidly growing commotion, the sound of Michaela's oncoming horse drew Hank's attention. He ran down the middle of the street to grab hold of the horse's reigns as she slammed to a stop. Flinging herself from the horse, she rushed determinately up the porch and surveyed the distraught family.

Teresa was hanging on by a thread and as she tearfully pleaded for Dr. Mike to help her daughter. Michaela quickly unlocked her door and ushered them all inside.

Jake reluctantly laid Lucy on the table and questioningly looked at Michaela. She had lit the strongest oil lamp she had and clicked the back mirror in place behind it. Instructing Jake to hold the lamp up to Lucy's face she stretched one nostril and then the other peering deeply inside.

"It's there. I have to operate," she gasped turning to face the child's parents.

"What's there?" Teresa sobbed her hand pressed to her heart.

"There's a small tumor lodged up the middle of her sinus cavity. It's what caused such a rapid migraine like pain. The light sensitivity and the bleeding. But I have to have permission to operate now before she can no longer breathe. As it is, it's beginning to block her nasal pathways, which is causing this death like symptom," she said rushing around preparing her instruments and pouring out her ether.

"Do whatever ya gotta do," Jake said trembling.

Michaela began to usher them out the door. Only, Jake hesitated in the doorway, his eyes falling on Lucy's unconscious body. Michaela shook her head with warning, causing Jake to relent and continue his way out. Although she would appreciate an assistant, it would be unwise to allow Jake in the room. If anything went wrong, his temper wouldn't permit him to maintain rationality. Besides this would take hours and it was obvious that neither one of them had slept. Drawing the shades about the clinic, and tying on her surgical apron she focused on Lucy's motionless form. She was resolved to work through the night.


	7. Chapter 8

Teresa held herself up against the wall of Jake's chest. She nestled into him with her hands clinging to the collar of his tan tweed coat. His arm was wrapped protectively around her shoulders and every now and then, he squeezed her in tighter. The hours seemed to be whittling by as they sat outside on the bench. Hank had offered them a table at the saloon but Jake couldn't rip himself away from the porch.

It was uncommonly cold for summer as Teresa's bare head began to force her to shiver. She laid her face close to Jake's neck and breathed in his soap and faint musky cologne scent. His chest rose and fell as she listened to the muffled sound of his breath. In a small way, it was comforting to be so close. He pressed his cheek to her forehead and frowned deeper.

"You feel like ice," he said pressing his lips to her skin.

Removing his coat, he draped it over her slender shoulders. He stifled a chuckle when she slipped her arms into the cavernous sleeves, and her hands only came up to where his elbows would have been. Hooking his thumbs into the pockets of his vest his smile faded. With her hair cascading over her shoulders and his big coat on, she reminded him of Lucy. Lucy his little girl who was behind that door possibly dying and he had laughed.

"Jake," Teresa sighed reading his thoughts. "Talk to me."

Perching his boot up on the bench beside her, he leaned his forearm on his thigh. His stormy eyes settled on his wife. Jake had always felt this need to protect and care for Teresa. It was a need that was wrought with his unfailing love for her. Now as he observed her shivering body and fear stricken expression, she appeared to be made of glass. A sudden instinct to brace himself took over. His family was about to be inexplicably torn from him and he couldn't allow that to happen. He felt like he was trying to hold back the waves of the ocean.

"I'm just tired is all," he would spare her this. "Dr. Mike'll fix her up. Everything's gonna be fine now."

Teresa sniffed at this. He was hiding something behind that stormy countenance. However, this time she didn't think she would be able to coax it out of him. Jake was scared over something more than Lucy, if that was possible at this moment. He's been so strong and steady; it wouldn't do now to have him fall apart. She resolved to take the burden from him. The weight of it was evident in the droop of his shoulders and in the gloom of his being. Maybe he wouldn't let her in on it but she would take it by force if necessary. Teresa wouldn't allow this to destroy him.

Pulling her arm from its sleeve, she reached up and caressed the side of his face. Closing his eyes, he leaned his face into her fingers. Enjoying the feel of her soft fragileness filled his heart. His beautiful wife, who had given him his beautiful child, was real and with him. It wasn't such a strange thought when before he had been alone.

"I love you," she offered up to him.

"With all my heart," he kissed her hand warmly, holding it briefly against his lips.

The inky blackness of night gave way to the pinks and purples of the oncoming morning. The Cheshire moon was fading back into the abyss tugging along the sparkling stars. The town started to stir and yawn its way into the activities of everyday life.

Jake had taken to pacing back and forth along the porch. He stopped now and then to adjust Teresa skirt to cover her ankles. She had fallen into a fitful sleep some hours ago and he'd helped her to lie down on the bench. However now people were walking past and casting knowledgeable glances in their direction. Though he was loath to wake her, he nudged her gently on the shoulder. Her eyes sprang open and she shot up like a bullet.

"Is she out?" she shouted looking towards the door.

"No, it's mornin," he smoothed out the tangles of her hair with his fingers. "folks are start' in to walk around."

She sighed leaning back on the bench with a yawn. As she sat watching, the streets begin to fill with people her eyes welled up. Tears flowed unchecked down her face along her neck and saturating into the collar of her dress. She wiped furiously at her cheeks with a tweed sleeve. As his footfalls drew nearer, she turned her face away unwilling to allow him to see her pain.

Behind them, the floorboards groaned under a tired weight. Slowly with an air of exhaustion, Michaela opened the clinic door. Her face was sullen and her eyes were deep hallows that seemed to beg for sleep. Here and there, her surgical apron was dabbed with blood. She didn't even try to smile.

Teresa sprang up and grabbed for Jakes waiting hand as they approached Michaela's tired form. She ushered them in past the bloodied operating table and through the door that lead to the rooms upstairs. Jake told himself this was good. If she was in the recovery rooms, she had survived. Everything would be fine. Reaching the top of the stairs Michaela stepped around them opening the door at the far end of the hall. She held her finger up to her lips as she waved them in.

Teresa rushed in to see her child. Yet Jake lingered in the hallway watching Michaela with a searching gaze. Michaela only smiled half-heartedly at him. Gently she pressed his arm encouraging him into the room. At the grasp of his arm, she was taken aback at the realization that he was tense as a rock. Somewhere between the stairs and the doorway, he felt the clammy tendrils of death still lurking about in the atmosphere.

"Jake?" Michaela inquired worried. "Lucy's waiting."

His boots creaked against the floorboards as he crossed the threshold.


	8. Chapter 9

Michaela rested her head against the frame of the doorway. She observed the tentative steps Jake was taking to approach his wife and daughter. Quite the curiosity she thought. He seemed to be in on some cosmic enigma that was casting her in the dark. Reaching the foot of the bed, he stood sentinel with his hands thrust into the pockets of his slacks. His expression was unreadable as he watched Teresa caressing Lucy's hair and holding the child's limp hand to her cheek.

"I have every reason to believe I got it all," Michaela's words were tangled with exhaustion. "We'll leave the bandage over the bridge of her nose until the swelling goes down."

Teresa looked up at her from the bedside, "Thank you Dr. Quinn. Thank you."

Teresa's heart felt gratitude warmed Michaela. Her eyes felt a little less heavy and her shoulders squared with light tinges of newfound energy. Yet when her eyes fell on Jake's unwavering stance, she felt only puzzlement. Perhaps it was merely exhaustion taking over for the fear adrenaline.

"If you need me I'll be down stairs cleaning up," she said this in Jake's direction.

"Right," he said mechanically.

Startled at this reply Teresa gaped at her husband, "Jake?"

Shaking himself, he turned towards Michaela wearily, "Thank you for all ya done."

"Your welcome Jake," Michaela and Teresa exchanged quizzical glances.

Chalking Jake's traumatized presence up to stress she turned on her heel. Sleep was on her mind as she slowly wandered downstairs where she began the process of clearing and sanitizing. Michaela didn't think she had ever longed for the comforts of her bed as she did at this moment.

He felt as though he had been asleep for decades. As his head slowly lulled to one side a sharp pinprick of pain shot through the muscles of Jakes neck. Reaching up to rub the soreness away, Jake realized he had fallen asleep in the rocking chair opposite Lucy's bed. With his lids still closed to the world, he struggled to recall how he had moved from the foot of the bed to the chair. The only sounds in the room were the distant clanks and clatter of wagons on the street below. People yelling and the ring of children laughing sprung up from under the balcony of the room. He should get up. He should go downstairs and pay Michaela.

Jake's whole body groaned as he attempted to sit up. However, he found himself surprised to discover the weight of a small bundle sleeping soundly in his lap. Looking down he saw a nest of glossy black ringlets resting blissfully on his chest. Her head was turned to the side as her breath exhaled warmly from between her blushed lips. Lucy's arms were draped about his sides lazily, and her legs fell across his own. He would have wrapped his arms around her, only he was afraid to break her heaven sent slumber. Instead, he took to stroking her back as he had done when she was a baby.

He found himself grinning as he watched Teresa. She was sound asleep as well, though half of her was still sitting in the chair, and half had fallen forward on the bed with her head cradled in her arms. A sigh of relief escaped his rigid frame. This meant Lucy had gotten up of her own accord. Carefully, so as not to stir Lucy, he reached over and tugged at Teresa's elbow. Groggily her head rolled up and she smiled at the sight of her husband holding their daughter. Then she grimaced as she attempted to stretch out of her awkward position. Placing her hands on the back of her hips, she pressed down working the painful knots out.

Then with a delighted yawn she whispered, "Is she okay?"

He only nodded happily. Watching Teresa walking out to the balcony for some air he realized that sometime in the night she had loosely pinned her hair back up around her head. However with the way she had slept sable wisps of hair had already fallen free framing her face and neck. Feeling the danger had passed him now, he felt free to ogle his wife once more. With Lucy safely in his arms, the paranoia was gone and he felt his boyish humor returning.

"What are you smiling at?" Teresa asked mockingly returning to the room with her hands on her hips.

"I was just think'in that when we get Lucy home and settled," he grinned rakishly. "I'm gonna take all that pretty hair down again."

"Jake!" she blushed patting and tucking back her hair.

Teresa crossed the room and sat beside them on the bed. She reached around Lucy and lightly with a hooked finger caressed her cheek. Her arms ached to pick Lucy up, but she wouldn't disturb the pair for the world.

"Well, let us pay Dr. Quinn and see if we can be on our way," she said before giving Jake a peck on lips.

He smiled crookedly, as he pointed towards his coat. However, just as Teresa began rummaging through its pockets the door opened with an air of apprehension. Michaela peeked cautiously from behind expecting a stormy scene from Jake. However, breathing a sigh of relief, at the sight of a happy family, she entered the room briskly.

"How are we doing?" she smiled down at Lucy's sleeping form.

"Much better," Jake chimed.

"Yes. Did you get much sleep?" Teresa added a little frustrated at finding only empty pockets.

"I caught a little shut eye, this morning when Sully arrived with Katie," Michaela grinned as she stuck the ear buds of her stethoscope in her ears.

Pressing the flat end up to Lucy's chest, she listened intently. Her heartbeat sounded rather robust for a child who had just had surgery. Moving the flat implement to Lucy's back, she deduced her lungs were clear and operating normally. Triumphantly, she pulled herself up and looked from one parent to the other.

"Ah, the resilience of children," she declared. "I see no reason why you can't take her home."

A silent reverie went up among the three. Jake entwined his fingers in Lucy's curls and rubbed her scalp gently with his fingertips. He then looked up at Teresa who was holding his coat up and shaking her head.

"I left my money clip at the barbershop again?" Jake cocked an eyebrow at his forgetfulness. "It's probably next to my hat."

"That's not necessary as of yet," Michaela waved her hand at them. "I'll want to see Lucy back here in three days to monitor the swelling, anyhow."

"Nonsense," Teresa said crossing behind Michaela. "I will go down the street. The longer Lucy may rest here the easier the trip home will be. And I believe with the sun this high, Jake will be grateful to have his hat."

Jake smiled watching her leave. He still hadn't forgotten his promise to her when they got home. Motioning to Michaela for help they carefully lifted Lucy from Jake's lap and laid her down on the bed. Wincing at the knotted muscles in his lower back Jake twisted the upper half of his body left and right.

"Teresa's not comfortable own' in money to folks," Jake offered apologetically. "Thanks to Preston."

"Yes, I can imagine," she said recalling how he'd nearly thrown her out of her own home. "I'll be down stairs if you need me."

As soon as she was gone, Jake wandered about stretching his long legs. He couldn't wait to get his girls home. With Lucy safely tucked into bed, Jake walked out to the balcony and surveyed the town. All up and down the street people were going about their days. He chuckled to himself as he watched Sully, Loren, Hank, and Mathew all clustered in front of the saloon. Their heads were all nodding together bobbing back and forth. They were gossiping. No doubt, Loren and Hank were making a feast of his situation.

Suddenly all at once the four turned toward some commotion down the street. He watched as Sully and Matthew darted for the growing crowd. Voices began shouting out for Dr. Mike. Jake sighed as he paced back to Lucy's beside. He hoped Teresa would hurry back so they could get home.


	9. Chapter 10

Jake watched intently as Lucy opened her bright grey eyes. She stretched her arms parallel to her sides and yawned daintily. Although, Jake noticed her flinch with a slight pain in her nose, he said nothing. It wouldn't do to frighten the child. He watched her as she took his hand and wrapped her own around his long fingers. She pulled his palm up to her face so she could trace the lines and creases with the tip of her index. Seeming to be lost in thought she sighed hugging his wrist like a doll. Then her head lulled from one side of the bed to the other searching for a figure that was no longer there.

"Where's Momma?" she asked clutching at his hand.

"She's comin," he replied dreamily enjoying the sound of her voice.

Once again, the noises from the street climbed up the balcony and into the room. There were shouts of agony and chaos that stung with familiarity at Jake's ears. He wiggled free from his daughters arms and walked out to the shaded rail. Watching with increasing interest and alarm, his hand gripped the rail tightly.

Below the crowd hummed like a murderous beehive. A cluster of them buzzed around Sully as he attempted to rush into the clinic. In his arms a woman's lifeless body. Her dress was covered in the red clay dust of the unpaved street. The edges of the collar of her dress were caked and crusted with angry blood. Her head dangled over Sully's dirty blood stained arm cold and limp. Jake strained over the edge of the balcony rail to see the woman's face; however, it was lost in the tangle of long ebony tresses. There was no doubt that she was dead.

As Sully passed through the clinic door with Michaela in tow, a short stub of a man threw himself into the cluster of people gawking outside. He thrashed at their clothes prostrating himself before them. The town's people either turned away in disgust or kicked him away with their feet.

This wasn't happening Jake shouted within himself. What color was Teresa's dress? Why couldn't he remember? The man was yelling up to the people now, but against the roar of the chaos, it was almost inaudible. His voice was slurred and there was an awkwardness to his gate that was something more than fear and remorse. Jake knew it all to well. The man was drunk.

"I didn't see her!" he shouted. "If I'da known I'da stopped!"

Mathew broke through the crowd which was quickly becoming a mob. He grabbed at the drunkard's muddied collar and took to dragging him away towards Daniel who was rushing to meet them.

"When ya saw she had fallen why didn't ya stop?" Daniel demanded lifting him up nearly off the ground. "The wagon wheel nearly cut her head off!"

Mathew stood between them now trying to keep Daniel from killing the man. Jake turned numbly back, walking at a dead pace to where his daughter lay. Mechanically, he tucked her into the bed.

"Stay put," he raked his fingers through his hair.

"I gotta," his voice cracked as he gulped down his sob. "Be back."

His boots felt like boulders as he dragged them out the door. Staring down the hallway he wondered if it had always looked so long and narrow. Reaching the top landing of the stairs, he froze. Just beyond the bottom landing through that door was a means to an end. His beautiful wife who had given him his beautiful child. Jake's heart and mind wouldn't allow him to finish the sentence.

The muffled rushing and panic was subsiding from the other side. An empty finalized silence had filled the space behind the door. Michaela's voice vibrated through the wooden panels slamming the nail into the coffin of his fears.

"She's gone," there was a pause then.

The light swishing movement of skirts and the clapping of boot heels against the wood floors, permeated through the walls. Michaela's voice reached Jake's tired ears once more.

"Jake is still upstairs with Lucy. . . Sully help me with this sheet."

Deliberate footfalls came thudding to a stop at the door. Jake found himself turning away looking back up the stairs, that he couldn't recall stepping down. He heard the metal of the knob clinking as it turned releasing the latch. The heavy wood creaked ominously against the doorframe. He heard the quick swish of her skirts and the fast thud of the door locking back into its chamber.

"Jake?" her feet ate up the steps bringing her to him in seconds. A small slender hand rested on the small of his back and slowing wrapped around his waist.

"Jake? Did you see what happened? It was horrible. That poor woman," Teresa walked around him on the stairs bringing her to his eye level.

His steely gray eyes engulfed the vision of her before him. Hands flying up to frame her face he inched them around to the back of her head bringing her in for a kiss. Her arms momentarily stunned fell like liquid to her sides. Releasing her, he held her before him by her shoulders.

"I thought it was you," his grip was like iron on her slight frame.

Shock subsiding, Teresa's face softened. She smiled sadly down into her frighten husbands face. Softly, she caressed the side of his cheek with her hand.

"We must go home," was all she said leading the way up the stairs to their daughter.

Jake sighed deeply with relief as he planted his foot into something soft and hollow on the step. Bending down he picked up his ruined Stetson. He looked back at the closed door and thought of the pain behind it, which he knew so well. Sending up a prayer for the poor broken woman, he sighed guiltily. Death had released its tendril hook on him and latched on to another soul. It had taken her viciously and without discretion. Tomorrow it would be his job to ready her for her family.

Ascending from the shadows of the stairwell, he felt the lightness that had been robbed of him. Jake would take his girls home. He would laugh with his daughter. He would admire his beautiful wife. And the next day, he would be all the more grateful.


End file.
